Last night Gavin came to me at bed time and said, "Mom, I feel weird."
"What's wrong, buddy?"
"I don't know. . . I just feel weird."
And then tears brimmed in his eyes. "I miss Italy." The tears no longer brimmed. They flowed.
I grabbed him, and we sat in our big red chair and cried. Both of us. I had really been missing Italy yesterday too. I was missing our little corner on Via Arno, by now all decorated with lights and full of the anticipation of Christmas.
"I wish we could get on a plane tonight to go back," he said.
"Me too, buddy. What would you do as soon as you got there?"
"Go get gelato."
"What else? What else do you miss?"
"I miss Via Arno."
Me too. A lot. Last week the ache for Italy wasn't as strong. But yesterday it burned.
There are days I want to announce that our "transition" back to the States is over. Funny how I'm not sure that day is going to come any time soon. As soon as I begin to think we're settling into where we are, a flood of memories and emotions come back to remind me that it will never feel like a clean break. Our life in Italy will always be a part of us.
My sweet Gavin. His heart is so tender. What a sweet moment it was last night to let our tears intermingle and our hearts share the ache of the life we left behind.
"Mom, I miss running to beat you down the stairs too."
Yeah, me too.
2 comments:
It keeps surprising you later, even when you think the burn is gone. Tonight -- 3-1/2 years after leaving Chile -- Rachel asked when we can go live in Chile again. She missed walking like we did then. Here we drive everywhere. Sigh. The truth is that the ache is for Home (Heaven), not truly for Chile. Soon.
crying with you.
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